


In War and Peace

by ThisIsMyVoice



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Honestly this is me waxing poetic about Lexa's amazing body, Peacetime, Piggy-Back Rides, Polis, Romance, a bit of humor if you squint, and Clarke really really agreeing with me lol, and warrior skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-10-29 09:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsMyVoice/pseuds/ThisIsMyVoice
Summary: Clarke loves watching Lexa get dressed in the mornings...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I was watching season 4 of the 100 and seeing Echo and Roan in action, it hit me: If Lexa was there, she would have literally wiped the floor with everyone. When this started, it was just praise for Lexa's prowess as a warrior and Lexa in general because the girl is amazing. Add an early morning, a laughably thirsty Clarke and a dash of peacetime and you get this fluffy monstrosity. Lol.  
> Comments are always appreciated.  
> Enjoy.

What wakes Clarke Griffin is the sudden absence of warmth by her side.

She shifts, letting out a little mewl of protest, but before her eyes can even flutter open there is a warm hand on her cheek, soothing her, and an even warmer voice at her ear.

“Shh my love,” and the tenderness in Lexa’s voice is itself a balm, wrapping around her more securely than even the furs do; it is rich and honeyed and layered this affection, and Clarke feels herself sinking into it with a sigh, turning to nuzzle against Lexa when the Commander drops a soft kiss to her cheek.

“I hate to leave you Clarke,” and the words are said with a sigh of their own, a quiet exhale heavy with both yearning and regret. “but I gave Indra my word that I would be in to examine the new recruits. Go back to sleep. It is still early yet, even the sun is still sleeping.”

Clarke can hear the playfulness in Lexa’s voice, can feel her smile where her mouth rests against her cheek and she can’t help the sleepy smile that graces her features. “Trust the commander to outdo the sun” she teases lightly, her voice little more than a husky murmur and Lexa buries her face in Clarke’s neck as she laughs, the sound beautiful and bright and all too rare. The vibrations from her laughter send tingling waves down Clarke's spine. Even more than half- asleep, Clarke’s heart swells with love, thick and heavy and full in her chest because this is Lexa, her Lexa, when the heavy mantle of leadership hasn’t yet been draped across her slender shoulders, when there is no one else but Clarke – young and playful and sweet.

“Go back to sleep,” Lexa urges once more, placing another soft kiss on her cheek, a slightly longer one on her lips. “I’ll wake you when I return.”

Clarke murmurs something unintelligible back and is slowly coaxed back to sleep with the pleasant warmth of Lexa’s hand gently caressing her cheek.

 

***

 

What wakes Clarke Griffin the second time is the soft click of their bedroom door.

She tenses instinctively - though she knows, she _knows_ that they’ve been at peace for two years now. That there are two guards posted down the hallway, another two at the doors of the elevator, another two at the base of the shaft and a couple of dozen more scattered throughout the tower and that no one dares enter this room without permission except Lexa. She _knows_ but she tenses anyway because there is not a single part of her, body, soul or spirit that has forgotten the horrors of wartime.

Then, almost immediately Clarke relaxes because even in the dim light of the very early morning, when everything in their room is still soft and muted and grey, she recognizes Lexa’s figure, the peace that flows over her soul, cool and soothing like water from the freshest spring in the quiet authority of Lexa’s presence.

Clarke lets herself breathe out, long and slow and relieved as her body melts back into the furs and Lexa moves further into the room.

It takes her eyes a moment to adjust but when they do, she can see Lexa’s wearing Clarke’s favorite bathrobe among the Commander’s collection – all thick white cotton so soft it feels like silk- and Clarke realizes she must have used the official bathrooms reserved for foreign ambassadors instead of their personal bathroom all in an effort to avoid disturbing her sleep. A rush of affection at the thoughtfulness of the gesture warms her and she is just about to let her still heavy eyes slide back closed when Lexa begins untying her robe.

For all that Clarke has seen this a dozen times before she feels her body still, her breath hitching.

The robe slides easily down Lexa’s shoulders as she approaches the bed and Clarke watches her walk, swallowing thickly against the sudden dryness of her throat.

God Lexa’s body is just… something else.

Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Every single part of her is tight and toned and firm, edged in smooth graceful lines and sleek curves and Clarke sometimes thinks she wants to kiss the master artist that made her because she can see how He took His time, building Lexa line by beautiful line; She can see the little divot in her legs and thighs that proudly declare the commanders impressive musculature as she walks, the muscles shifting just underneath her skin, the subtle contractions of her abdominal muscles as they work to propel Lexa forwards…

Clarke probably spends more time than she should on Lexa’s abs and really, she can’t even imagine the kind of rigor it takes to produce the pectorals clearly defined against Lexa’s stomach. She has flashes of the commander doing one armed pull-ups and push-ups and a dozen other things Clarke would rather die than do just for the sake of doing.

She thinks she’s drooling a little and she doesn’t even care, too busy taking in the quiet flexing of the muscle’s in Lexa’s arms, the careful choreography her whole body adopts just to move her from one side of the room to the other.

Clarke lets her eyes roam back down, drinking in Lexa all over again:

The cluster of dark neatly trimmed curls descending in a V to the apex of Lexa’s thighs that has Clarke biting her lip.

Lexa’s small round breasts, nipples standing to attention in the briskly cold air of early morning, like soldiers saluting their commander, that makes Clarke bury her face in her pillow with an amused smile.

Lexa deposits her robe gently at the foot of the bed and turns to regard their wardrobe in the corner of the room and Clarke takes the opportunity to prop herself up on an elbow and readjust a little so she can get a clear view of Lexa as she rests her head on her palm.

She feels like purring at the visual.

Liquid rays of light in their most dilute form spill softly into their room from the open window, through the fluttering curtains, gently caressing Lexa’s face and dimly illuminating her profile.

Clarke admires the strength of Lexa’s jaw, the elegant column of her neck, the light muscles of her back, dancing even as she stands still, simply breathing.

Hers eyes follow the slimness of Lexa’s waist, the gentle curves of her hips and the full roundness of her ass which Clarke knows from experience feels even better than it looks.

Clarke suppresses an involuntary sound of appreciation, her bottom lip firmly back between her teeth as Lexa moves to the wardrobe having decided what she wants to wear.

Lexa is a masterpiece, a work of art of formed from sweat, blood and tears; skin, bone and sinew. Forged in the fires of adversity and painstakingly crafted to be the ruler of her people. But the grounders hadn’t just made Lexa a queen.

They’d made her a god.

She had told Clarke once that Clarke had never seen her fight. After that had come the battle with Roan and Clarke had been awed by the quick, ruthless precision of Lexa’s movements, their savage power - such a propensity for destruction all under Lexa’s masterful control. It is only in the months that followed that Clarke realized that that was only a fraction of what Lexa is truly capable of, what it truly meant when Lexa won that day.

After Lexa _dismantled_ Echo in a friendly-still-not-so-friendly-despite-the-peace-treaty- we-signed-two-years-ago sparring match, a gash down Lexa’s cheek and a couple more across her arms and side but Lexa standing victoriously, eyes glowing, her blade pointed at a bruised and battered Echo’s chin, Clarke had understood.

Roan was stronger than most of the commander’s that made up the coalition, perhaps with the exception of Luna and a fierce, tiger of a woman from beyond the dead zone.

Roan was stronger than Echo.

Lexa was stronger than Roan.

Lexa was stronger than them all.

It was this strength that had allowed her to forge her coalition together in the first place.

And Clarke’s not going to lie – seeing Lexa undefeated, _undefeatable,_ pumped up and victorious kind of does it for her. So, so much.

Enough that there’s a part of her that is trying to calculate how much time she has before Lexa is actually due at the training grounds and if she can convince her to rejoin her in their bed from the memory alone but mostly…

Mostly Clarke just loves watching Lexa get dressed. It’s not often that she gets to just look at Lexa like this. Even in peacetime, most days are filled with meetings and plans and duties and _people_ needing both her and Lexa – their strength, wisdom, presence and attention to rebuild the lives that were ravaged by war.

The nights are filled with them, kisses and touches and quiet conversations in the cool dark – it allows her to focus on all the features that make up Lexa one at a time:

The deep green of her eyes, dusted with hazel and framed with long, dark lashes – eyes that often spoke a language all their own.

Her hands, strong and elegant, fingers long and graceful as they glide down Clarke’s body or hold her hand, or gently brush the hair away from her face.

Lexa’s mouth, full and pink and oh so soft; beautiful as it stretches into a smile. As it trails reverent kisses down her stomach, as it presses into the most secret parts of her.

Clarke is intimately acquainted with all the smaller parts of Lexa that make up her whole. But it is only rarely that she gets mornings like this, where she’s up almost as early as Lexa is and doesn’t have to rush to some meeting or other. where she gets to lay down and watch all the pieces of Lexa she has come to love fit into the whole.

She loves mornings like this.

Clarke finds herself sighing, full and pleased as Lexa turns back to the bed. The Commander’s eyes widen slightly before a soft smile spreads upon her features.

“You’re awake” Lexa murmurs.

“Mmhm,” Clarke simply hums, her voice still thick with sleep, before having to cover a yawn so wide she looks like a pauna about to swallow some poor human whole.

Clarke blinks through eyes made watery by her yawn and sees Lexa’s smiling at her, that small smile that’s just for Clarke, eyes twinkling at the sleepy display. Clarke gives her a warm smile and stifles another yawn in favor of propping herself up against the pillows lining their headboard. She feels full of it, heavy in the most pleasant way with the simple joys of peacetime like watching the love of her life get dressed.

That sense of contentment only grows as Lexa moves to put her clothes down at the foot of the bed and then sits near Clarke at the edge of the bed, leaning warm and naked over her.

Clarke smiles into the kiss Lexa presses to her lips and feels the smile mirrored. In fact, soon they’re smiling so hard they can barely kiss and after a few seconds of sweet if ineffective bumping of their lips, Lexa pulls away with a laugh that sounds like music to Clarke’s ears. They’re barely an inch apart and Clarke loves the way Lexa drops a soft kiss to the corner of Clarke’s mouth and another on her cheek before she pulls back to whisper, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Clarke whispers back. There’s something about the tenderness of the moment, the quiet of the morning, the soft reverence in Lexa’s forest green eyes that makes anything louder feel wrong, an imposition on this perfect picture of peace that deserves to be preserved.

Clarke lets her eyes fall closed and melts a little on the inside as Lexa presses gentle kisses against her eyelids, one on each eye. When Lexa rests her forehead against hers and nuzzles gently into her, she officially becomes a Clarke shaped puddle of goo.

“Did you sleep well?” Lexa murmurs.

Clarke chuckles at the question, voice still husky with the remnants of sleep and leans in to unhurriedly press a series of decidedly far less innocent kisses against Lexa’s delightfully plump lips.

“I’m not sure what you remember from last night Commander but I wouldn’t exactly call anything we did sleeping. Would you?” Clarke asks, smirk appearing between kisses and Lexa hums amusedly against Clarke’s mouth, grinning just before she leans in and captures Clarke’s bottom lip in a kiss.

The kiss is lazy and relaxed, more affectionate than passionate as Lexa’s lips move languidly over hers. It’s too early in the morning for much else and Clarke finds her body warming pleasantly as Lexa kisses her, melting against the pillows as Lexa sinks against her.

When Lexa finally pulls away Clarke let’s out a contented hum and lets her fingers, which had found their way to Lexa’s back run idly up and down the smooth ridges of her spine. Lexa shivers and Clarke smiles, pressing her lips to her favorite spot just under Lexa’s jaw to see if she can tease out that delightful reaction again. She can and she does and Clarke’s smile widens as she presses her face into Lexa’s neck.

Lexa smells wonderful after her bath, like soap and lavender and clean linens and Clarke let’s herself burrow closer with a contented sigh. “you wore me out you know,” She whispers, like someone confiding a secret even though she knows Lexa knows. That it was Lexa who had gently detached Clarke’s trembling, useless legs from around her waist and padded off to the bathroom for a warm, wet washcloth. Lexa who had then run said washcloth over Clarke with nearly unbelievable gentleness, trading in soft kisses and even softer words the whole time until she tucked Clarke under the furs and slid in behind her to hold her close. Clarke let herself sink into the quiet stream of Lexa’s whispered adorations until at last she fell asleep, the sky showing through their window no longer the darkness of late evening when they’d stumbled into their room trading heated kisses but the dark grey of very early morning, barely three hours between them and the first cock crowing.

“you’re blaming the fact that we barely got any sleep last night on me?” There’s playful incredulity in Lexa’s voice and Clarke can picture the arch of Lexa’s raised eyebrow. She grins against into the curve of her neck and then hums as she begins placing light kisses against the column of Lexa’s neck.

“Mmhm, it’s entirely your fault.” Clarke murmurs, nipping lightly to emphasize her point. Lexa tenses briefly against her as if a jolt of electricity has shot through her and Clarke grins again. She’s just about to do that thing with her mouth and the skin over Lexa’s pulse-point that Lexa loves when Lexa pulls away from her with a breathless chuckle, her hands bracing on the pillows beside Clarke’s head so that Lexa is hovering over her.

Clarke would be lying if she said the angle didn’t distract her a bit, eyes straying from Lexa’s eyes, several shades darker than they had been when she’d moved to say good morning, to her chest and the little soldiers standing to attention.

Lexa laughs again and gently urges Clarke’s gaze back to her own with a hand at her chin, tipping her head up. Clarke feels a light blush warm her cheeks and Lexa smirks down at her, as if Clarke has just proved her point for her which, okay, yeah. Maybe.

“You see, I find that highly amusing Clarke because the way I remember last night, you kept asking me not to stop.” Lexa murmurs lowly.

And Lexa is doing this thing where her eyes are glowing warmly down at Clarke and her mouth is still curved in that wickedly knowing smirk and okay Clarke is really blushing now, cheeks a kind of hot that they haven’t been for years.

Still, she can’t quite stop smile blooming because yeah, she had. And Lexa had listened so, so well and just kept going and going and going and –

Just remembering last night turns the heat in her cheeks into a full body flush that has color rushing to her chest, her neck, stretching all the way to her ears.

The smile spreads from Lexa’s eyes to her mouth until the Commander is full on grinning at her, eyes sparkling. It’s a look Clarke loves so much yet still sees all too rarely even in peacetime. She takes a mental picture of it and stores it with her other favorites of Lexa and then huffs, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly to the ceiling. “well when you put it that way…”

Lexa laughs again, that softly delighted one that has her eyes crinkling at the corners and lights up her eyes. Clarke’s heart does a thrilled little flip in her chest as she returns her eyes to Lexa. She thinks a girl could trip head over heels off that laugh alone.

Lexa leans down to press a tender, loving kiss to Clarke’s lips before she leans in, rubbing her nose gently against Clarke’s in an eskimo kiss. Soon enough her fingers find their way to Clarke’s sides, pressing into sensitive skin until Lexa has Clarke giggling with child-like delight as she twists away from her hands, the sound light and airy and beautiful, spilling into their room like the first few sprinklings of daylight. Lexa’s smile is a thing of beauty all on its own as she pulls away, warming Clarke all the way to her toes.

With a final kiss, Lexa hops off to finally get dressed and Clarke watches her with a dreamy smile that widens when Lexa flashes her another of those grins she loves as she slides into her underwear and then her pants.

When Lexa slides her top on, Clarke lets out a small regretful sigh at the loss of skin and then sighs again, appreciatively, a few moments later, gratified at the sight of Lexa tugging on her black, open-fingered gloves.

Lexa glances at her with twinkling eyes, a single eyebrow raised.

“I love watching you get dressed in the mornings” Clarke murmurs by way of an explanation, gaze still happily tracing the Commander’s form. She looks every inch the warrior even without her war paint.

“Really?” Lexa asks, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, as she tugs on her other glove. “I thought you loved it when I got _un-dressed_ Clarke.”

Clarke groans and then laughs, shaking her head because Lexa is going to be so _soo_ smug for _a_ _while_ after last night but also the Commander knows her so, so well and yes, she does. She returns the grin Lexa gives her, stomach swooping pleasantly at the realization that that’s three, wide, teeth flashing smiles all in the space of the few minutes after she woke up. It’s going to be really good day at this rate. Clarke can feel it.

With those positive vibes settling warm and steadfast over her, she’s more than content to leave things there and just watch Lexa as she finishes getting ready.

It’s a beautiful kind of calm that surrounds them, a special kind of serenity.

She watches Lexa tug on her boots, fit on her thigh strap, slide her favorite knife into its sheathe and fit another belt around her waist complete with the sheathe for the Commander's sword. The sword itself comes at the very end and Lexa won't arm herself fully till she's actually on her way out of the door. Clarke let’s herself be lulled by the rhythm of Lexa's movements, by the way the room lightens in slow degrees as the sun inches ever so slightly higher, by the sound of Lexa’s breathing, steady in the quiet. Slowly her eyes begin to droop and Clarke is just about to slip into that blissful place between wakefulness and sleep when Lexa settles gently at the edge of their bed, running a gloved hand through the strands of her hair so that they form a neat waterfall pouring down her back.

Clarke feels a warm burst of pleasure spark in her chest and then languidly seep through the rest of her body till her whole being seems to radiate with it - the silent force of her joy. She knows what comes next.

Lexa looks at Clarke over her shoulder. “would you like to braid my hair for me today?” she asks, as if she is genuinely unsure that Clarke might want to continue the ritual they’ve honored for years, as if the answer could ever be anything but yes.

That bright, heated warmth in the center of her chest throbs and it’s almost painful, how fond she is in this moment. It spills from her mouth in a smile filled with such light that Lexa’s face relaxes.

Lexa’s whole body relaxes, muscles going languid and soft and she gives Clarke something of a sheepish smile before turning forward again, cheeks heating.

Clarke thinks its adorable.

She crawls forward still smiling and presses a kiss to her neck right at the place where her hairline ends and Clarke cherishes the quiet, pleased exhalation she draws forth.

“Would I ever say no to that? Would I ever say no to you?” She murmurs and Lexa turns again to look at her, cheeks even more rosy but there’s something in her eyes that lets Clarke know that sometimes she is genuinely not sure. That she needs these little reminders, that she deserves to be looked after, that she is not a chore or a duty, that she is loved.

Clarke answers the silent thanks in Lexa’s eyes with another tender kiss and settles on her knees behind her, legs slightly bracketing the commander’s hips. It takes a little maneuvering to ensure that the furs are still modestly covering her but it’s worth it because it’s still a little nippy in the early morning air despite the scattered rays of light lazily filtering in from the window. Besides, she honestly doesn’t think she’ll be able to focus on much of anything if she has to press against Lexa bare. Hell she doesn’t’ think _Lexa_ will be able to focus and the thought makes her smile as she begins to gently card her fingers through Lexa’s hair.

She feels more than sees Lexa close her eyes against her touch, feels it in the way she relaxes even further, back bowing slightly, shoulders lowering as she leans on her forearms resting against her knees and Clarke wants to press a kiss to the trusting curve of Lexa’s spine because she is one of the few people alive who will ever get to see this, the way Commander looks, loose-limbed and relaxed and trusting, the way Lexa looks.

Instead she curls a small section of Lexa’s hair between her fingers and begins working on a variation of the numerous styles she knows by heart now.

It’s just a training session but there’s always the possibility of Lexa suddenly facing a more formal setting - a meeting with one of the ambassadors at a moment’s notice, a new discovery both good and bad that could require a more formal audience or an emergency that could have her before the other commanders - so Clarke goes with something that is only a little complicated, weaving small tight designs into Lexa’s hair here and there, symbols of the Trikru that have her smiling as they form against the back of Lexa’s head.

On the weekends, when Lexa doesn’t have any meetings, which now that they’re in peacetime can be for a few blissful days at a time, she goes with even easier styles: simple twists that Lexa can pull back and hold, a French braid that extends past Lexa’s shoulder blades –

The first time she’d done that she’d actually frozen in shock, at how much younger Lexa looked. How obviously _pretty_ Lexa became, a youthfulness to her features that had Clarke blushing and stuttering in response to Lexa’s playful ‘how do I look?’. And Lexa had watched her with a glowing mix of fondness and amusement before leaning in to cut off Clarke’s stammering “a-amazing” with a kiss.

“What do you love about it?” Lexa suddenly murmurs after long, peaceful minutes have passed and Clarke hmm’s? absently, her mind caught between her memories and the shifting blur of her fingers.

“About watching me get dressed?” Lexa’s voice is quiet in the grey serenity of their room and Clarke smiles at the Commander’s gentleness, at how Lexa unconsciously adapts to preserve the peace around them even if it is only in silence.

She can’t resist leaning over to press a lingering kiss to Lexa’s cheek, nuzzling into the soft warmth of the skin there.

“Everything.” She breathes and goosebumps rise up on Lexa’s skin.

When she pulls back Lexa is wearing a soft look of quiet contemplation. There's something else in her gaze, this hint of vulnerability, of surprise and awe that has Clarke aching in the best and worst ways, the worst from the fact that even after all this time Lexa can still be surprised by Clarke's affection for her. 

She smiles a smile she hopes conveys all the throbbing tenderness swelling to fit, warm and thick and heavy in her ribcage, pressing against her heart as she holds Lexa’s gaze and proceeds to tell her all the things Clarke loves about being with Lexa on mornings like this.

“I love that I get to watch all of you. I love how the light kisses your skin, how shadows collect in the little indents in your spine, the ridges between your ribs, the small hollow of your belly button. I love watching you move, the way your muscles shift and ripple under your skin. I love seeing how strong you are.”

Lexa’s eyes darken at that, all her attention focusing on Clarke. She turns her body more fully towards her and Clarke feels that familiar twinge of yearning between her thighs.

It pulls another sigh from her and it’s easy to keep speaking with the way Lexa is looking at her – like she holds the secrets of the universe hidden in every word. Clarke can’t quite tamp down the urge to shift forward, to pull Lexa into the warm circle of her arms and the Commander melts against her, arms coming up to wrap tightly around Clarke, a contented sigh falling from her lips as she buries her face into Clarke’s neck. Clarke thrills at it, even as she presses a kiss to Lexa’s forehead, her cheek, lets her fingers find the hem of her shirt and then sneak under, splaying over the commander’s back as Clarke lets her hands roam over the smooth expanse of skin she also loves, dotted her in there with small ridges and scars – a testament to a lifetime of war for the sake of peace.

“I love this too,” she murmurs. Her voice is a couple of octaves lower- husky - and she feels Lexa’s hand shift to her waist, tighten against the skin there and begin to gently knead.

“I love how I can feel all of you on mornings like this, the curve of your collarbone,” Clarke’s hand moves to trace said collarbone, “the round of your shoulder, the line of your spine” she trails her fingers against said spine and feels Lexa shiver against her, her entire body trembling with her reaction. “I love how I get to touch you on mornings like this.”

Lexa pulls gently out of Clarke’s embrace to meet her eyes and Clarke is enchanted by the soft intensity of them. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Lexa’s eyes quite so dark when she’s done so little.

“I love your arms.” She trails her fingers down said arms, curling her hands around velvet covered steel. She can feel Lexa’s muscles jump under her touch and can’t resist a smile, her tone turning smoky as a hint of playfulness bleeds into her voice and touch.

“I _love_ your abs.” Her fingers move from Lexa’s arms, down her front, skimming lightly over the said abs, over Lexa’s t-shirt. Clarke marvels at the way Lexa’s entire abdomen tenses at her touch, can’t resist doing it again, slipping her finger under Lexa’s shirt and meeting warm skin, pressing with a slightly heavier touch, down, down to the top of Lexa’s pants, Clarke’s fingers hot over the expanse of skin that leads to more and Lea’s mouth is parted, eyes half-lidded and smoldering and Clarke can feel the building tide of Lexa’s want. She adds self-control to the list of things she admires because she knows Lexa won’t interrupt until she’s done talking.

“You’re a work of art Lex.” She whispers. “I kinda just love you.”

When she finishes speaking, Lexa doesn’t respond immediately, that unbelievably soft look spilling back into her dark eyes as they roam over Clarke’s face, as she takes in her words, let’s them settle warmly in the space between them, around them, a gentle kind of intimacy in the air.

When she does respond, it is not with words.

Lexa slides her hand underneath Clarke’s hair to cup the back of her head, movements slow and deliberate, heavy with meaning and Clarke is listening, listening to this touch. To the way Lexa’s fingers curl gently in those soft hairs at the base of her neck, scratching lightly, delightfully, at her scalp and sending a pleased shiver through her body. She listens to the way Lexa’s other hand settles on her cheek, callused fingers still soft, warm against her skin. The way Lexa’s thumb strokes across the arch of her cheek. The way Lexa holds her like she is something precious and delicate and pure, and Clarke wants to close her eyes and sink into this touch but she forces half- lidded eyes to remain on Lexa, doesn’t want to miss a second of this response.

Like the way the corner of Lexa’s mouth curls up into that small smile that Clarke loves, tenderer than Clarke has ever seen it, graced with fondness and affection and a love that still manages to steal Clarke’s breath away, that has tears welling up behind her eyes as the commander tugs her in for a kiss as soft as summer rains.

It is a kiss reminiscent of their first except Lexa is no longer uncertain, no longer tentatively cautious. The press of her lips are sure and slow and skillful against Clarke’s and she can’t do much but sink into Lexa and absorb. The commander’s arms shift to her waist and Clarke answers their gentle pull, letting them draw her nearer until Clarke is settling a leg over Lexa’s lap, snugly fitted into Lexa’s hold with Clarke’s chest flush against hers, the furs just barely keeping her covered caught between them. Clarke moans quietly at the contact and when that makes Lexa tighten her arms to pull Clarke impossible closer, tilt her head and kiss Clarke harder, Clarke moans again.

Clarke has come to appreciate that grounders are people of few words. That their language is a simple one meant more for functional efficiency than anything else. It is not given to frills or exaggerations, theatrics and unnecessary complications. When it is needed, there is space in that simplicity for an unexpected delicacy that gives them the ability to say beautiful things that would get lost in the complexity of English but they are, at their cores, a people of action and as has been demonstrated over and over again, they are not afraid to express themselves purely in this way, by doing instead of speaking. So if a Grounder likes you or hates you you'll know and right now Lexa is doing an exceptional job of showing not telling.

Clarke parts her lips against Lexa’s and lets herself melt into warmth and heat and tender, worshipful affection until she is sighing against the press of the Commander’s lips, the brush of her tongue, against the heat that has built gradually and settled solidly in her gut, warm and heavy and pleasant between her thighs.

When Lexa pulls away, it is only to rest her forehead against Clarke, their panting breaths meeting and melding in the space between them. Lexa holds the position for a moment and everything is peaceful and safe and loving and this, this is what it means to live instead of just surviving.

Clarke has barely gotten her breath back before she is tilting her head to nuzzle at Lexa’s cheek, to search for her lips with her own because she wants more of this particular brand of Lexa’s affection but the commander chuckles lightly, a sound Clarke can feel the vibrations of in all the places she is still pressed against Lexa, and turns her head away from Clarke’s questing lips so that Clarke’s mouth simply lands against her cheek. Clarke mewls in protest, again shifting to regain access to Lexa’s mouth and Lexa’s hand tenses reflexively against her skin where its settled at the small of Clarke’s back. Clarke knows what those little sounds of want do to Lexa, and she can’t help but smile, amused as she presses kisses to the commander’s jaw even while her other hand takes Lexa’s chin, gently trying to convince her to turn.

“Clarke” Lexa says, and Clarke can hear the amusement in her voice, intertwined with the husk of it even as she curls her hands gently around Clarke’s wrists and lowers them into her lap where she pins them with one hand, the other coming to cup Clarke’s cheek and really Clarke thinks, flexing lightly against the solid restraint of Lexa’s hand around hers, Lexa isn’t exactly helping matters if the goal is to help her _cool_ down.

“Clarke” Lexa murmurs again, to get her attention and when Clarke’s eyes finally shift to hers, there’s a small smirk curling the corner of Lexa’s mouth but even with that the apology, the regret in her eyes is clear.

Clarke takes a deep, steadying breath and wills her body to calm down.

“This isn’t happening is it.” She observes drily and Lexa’s mouth quirks just a bit before she leans in to dust Clarke’s face with feather light kisses that let her know more than anything that no ravishing shall take place this morning.

She sighs and Lexa releases her wrists in favor of taking one of her hands, her thumb stroking soothingly over the back of Clarke’s knuckles.

“I’m sorry my love but no. I was meant to be at the training field by first light and I’ve stretched the time of my arrival a little as it is. They’re just new recruits but a Commander cannot be late Clarke. On the battlefield, respect must always, always be earned and it begins here.” the Commander’s eyes are wide and open and honest and Clarke sighs again, a longer, more exaggerated sigh that has Lexa’s eyes sparkling because Clarke knows she’s right and Lexa knows she knows and really she doesn’t stand a chance when Lexa looks at her like that.

“Can I at least come watch?” she asks after a small pause, playful smile quirking her lips. It’s a question that’s more rhetorical than not, and purely for the sake of courtesy – they both know that there are very few things Lexa would ever say no to Clarke, least of all this.

Still, the corner of Lexa’s mouth quirks and instead of answering immediately, she arches a brow at Clarke.

“What?” Clarke asks as innocently as she can with laughter bubbling in her voice. She’s done nothing to deserve that look. There may have been times in the recent past, after one of Lexa’s longer visits to the neighboring clans, where for one reason or other Clarke would have to stay in Polis (though she went along with Lexa more often than she stayed most times) where she would purposely crash such a training session. And it wasn’t as if she did anything really, apart settling down in easy viewing distance from the field and resting her weight back on her hands, tilting her face to the sun. If the position happened to enhance her to two most prominent assets quite a bit, well, that was merely a coincidence. It also helped that most of the time Lexa was so easy. Clarke both loved and was insanely amused by how Lexa didn’t even try to hide how much Clarke affected her.

The eyebrow hitches a little higher and Clarke bites her lip on a laugh.

“You’ll be good?” Lexa asks faux sternly, sounding like she has absolutely no faith at all in Clarke’s ability to be so.

And really yes, she will. Clarke has no ulterior motive. This time. Can’t a girl just like spending time with and being in the general vicinity of the love of her life without plotting some devious seduction?

Dang.

Maybe she just loves seeing the sun in Lexa’s hair when she’s in the field. The focused intensity that settles in her eyes, over every line of her features and body when she’s in Command…

Loves seeing Lexa _take_ command…

And really Clarke should probably avail herself to a cold shower but its more than even those things. It’s the way Lexa will shoot her glances every so often, mouth curling in that small smile that’s just for Clarke. The way she’ll show off, just a little bit, chest out, steps sure, the slightest bit of swagger to her movements; the way Lexa likes that Clarke likes being there.

Then again, Lexa’s left herself wide open with her word choice and Clarke a particularly mischievous impulse flare up in her. She probably shouldn’t because it will do absolutely nothing to convince Lexa that her intentions towards their rendezvous at the training field are completely pure but –

She can’t help leaning forward to nuzzle against Lexa as she breathes.

“Absolutely. I promise I’ll be a very, very good girl. But just for you.” She presses a gentle kiss to the corner of Lexa’s mouth and she can feel the tremor that rocks through her. She chuckles into Lexa’s hair when the Commander drops her head to Clark’s shoulder and groans because Clarke knows exactly what that voice and those playful innuendos do to her.

Clarke plants a kiss in Lexa’s hair, amusement still evident in her voice when she says, “Couldn’t resist sorry. Now off you go.”

Lexa lifts her head from Clarke’s shoulder and her eyes are dark, gaze flickering between Clarke’s lips and her eyes and then over her body, covered in nothing but the furs, clothes littered somewhere on the ground after the night before.

She makes no move to get up.

Clarke’s heart thuds unsteadily in her ribs as she takes note of all this but as much as her body would love to respond, she was honestly just teasing. She would never want to be the reason Lexa stopped giving her commitments the full dedication they deserved from her. She considers that maybe she teased just a little too much and places a soft kiss on Lexa’s cheek, an unspoken apology she knows Lexa understands when she relaxes under Clarke’s touch, that intensity dimmed a little by the time Clarke pulls back.

“Go,” Clarke gently urges her again for the second time and then with a smile that dances on being a smirk, “we’ll have more than enough time to ourselves when you’re done.”

Something flashes in Lexa’s eyes at that and Clarke feels a responding spark of heat between her thighs.

“Very well then Clarke, I’ll see you soon.” It sounds an awful lot like a promise and Clarke hums in agreement and works on not biting her lip because that will only have Lexa tackling her to the bed this instant she knows.

She shifts off of Lexa back onto the bed, not surprised to find she misses the contact between their bodies almost instantly.

She smiles into the goodbye kiss Lexa gives her, soft and chaste and she’s just getting ready to lean back on the pillows and enjoy another fifteen minutes of blissful lounging before she actually begins to get ready for the day when Lexa surprises her by leaning back in and pressing another kiss to her lips, still soft and chaste.

Clarke smiles. Sometimes Lexa can be so sweet.

Another gentle kiss…

Mmm…Really sweet…

The third kiss leads to another - Firmer. Longer. Lexa shifting closer, hand pressed warmly against the small of Clarke’s back, the other snaking behind Clarke’s head, pulling her in, pulling her closer.

Clarke moans softly. The muscles in her lower belly quiver and contract. Her heart flutters.

“Lex?” she mumbles, melting into the touch despite herself.

Lexa merely hums and tilts her head, changing the angle before pressing her lips to Clarke’s, capturing her bottom lip securely. Clarke groans under the sudden warm, inviting press of Lexa’s tongue, the sound barely more than a deep rumble in her chest. Her mouth drifts open helplessly, inviting Lexa in and the kiss is suddenly not so soft, not so chaste anymore.

There’s nothing of the almost lazy ease with which Lexa had kissed her this morning.

Now, Lexa kisses her passionately, hungry, eager in a way that has heat curling reflexively in the pit of Clarke’s stomach, has her responding with little nips and sharp tugs of her teeth that have Lexa groaning softly and surging in kiss her even more passionately than before.

Clarke is dimly aware of the fact that Lexa’s is guiding her down until her back is once again resting on the bed and the commander is hovering above her, body warm and solid and pleasant against her.

Clarke isn’t sure exactly how long she is lost in the haze of lips and tongue and teeth and want until vaguely she register’s Lexa’s hands, resting at the edge of the sheet of fur covering her and Clarke knows, knows that if that sheet comes off neither of them will be leaving this room for a very long time.

So Clarke does the only thing she can do. She arches upwards with her hips, using the movement to tilt both their bodies until the commander is deposited unceremoniously off the edge of the bed. Lexa tumbles with a surprised yelp, a dull thump sounding where she makes contact with the floor.

It’s a short distance between their bed and the ground but she still leans over quickly to make sure Lexa’s not hurt, as unlikely as that would be. She doesn’t...she doesn’t look hurt… just really shocked as she lays on her back and blinks up at the ceiling.

A ripple of laughter escapes Clarke’s lips at the deer in headlights look on Lexa’s face and she quickly stifles it with her hand. She can’t do anything about the sparkle in her eyes though and when the commander sits up with a huff and glares at her, Clarke has to use every single ounce of self- control she has in her not to burst out laughing. God the sound Lexa made when she was falling –

Clarke covers her entire face, body shaking with silent laughter and by the time she looks up again, Lexa’s lips are pursed around a smile of her own, eyes sparkling. All it takes is a shared look and then they are both breaking, their laughter spilling forth in joyful waves that wash over them both, filling their entire room.

Clarke laughs until tears form in her eyes, and her lungs are screaming for air and then it’s a struggle to stop with short little gasps that turn into renewed laughter every time Lexa looks at her again.

“Guess that’s my queue.” Lexa mumbles, and the faux grumpy tone of her voice is offset by the tears she also has to wipe away from her eyes and the smile that lingers at the corners of her mouth.

She gets up to cup Clarke’s face and place a fond kiss on her forehead and Clarke leans into the touch, taking deep breaths to steady herself and stave off further giggles. Lexa lingers long enough for a soothing wave of affection and calm to wash over Clarke, washing away the last of the giggles that threaten to spill forth in favor of a soft smile.  
“I’ll see you soon.” Lexa breathes, pulling back to look her in the eyes and God, suddenly there’s desire bleeding into the humor in her eyes and there’ s that look again that says Lexa’s just about ready to start removing clothing.

“Yeah,” Clarke croaks and then flushes because she hadn’t meant for her voice to do that.

Lexa gives her another smile that bleeds into a knowing smirk and presses another soft kiss to Clarke’s cheek.

Then she’s sliding her sword into its sheathe and sweeping out of the double doors of their bedroom.

Clarke listens to the sound of her footsteps as she makes her way towards the elevator, affection swelling warm and heavy inside her.

When she can no longer hear the sound of Lexa’s footsteps, Clarke griffin flops back onto her bed with a sigh and a smile so wide it damn near hurts.

She loves morning’s like this.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke strolls through the fields with a smile so bright it rivals the sunshine spilling over the valley.

Quite a few of the hundred had settled in Polis and, in exchange for some of the Ark’s specialists, a contingency of expert hunters, gathers etc. had been sent to the Ark to teach the Sky people how to more effectively engage with their natural surroundings. How to fight. How to survive.

She’d gone to visit Monty first, inspecting the new farming system he’d set up and then looked over the developing plans for an electrical grid. With his help, Raven and a handful of engineers had already gotten running water flowing through the capital and with a little time, might be able to bring electricity first to Polis, then the outlying villages and eventually to the entire Coalition. It’s a thrilling thought.

Raven had already left for the Ark to get more supplies but Clarke goes over her blueprints for new farming tools, more efficient weapons and simple transportation with a smile. This was everything she’d ever dreamed of when she’d first dreamed of peace - the ground meeting the sky - and Clarke can see the brightness of all their futures shining on the horizon.

The Earth must agree with her positive outlook on life because everywhere flowers are in bloom. Birds chirp excitedly as they race each other through trees that are cheerfully waving hello and all around her is the smell of summer. The smaller animals reappeared about a year ago. Clarke supposes that if you look really closely you can see that maybe a few have more than one eye, or an extra pairs of wings but…well, Clarke has resolved firmly not to look too closely.

She’s carrying her sketchbook under her arm and a knotted pack filled with generous portions of food for both her and Lexa, just in case The Commander did that thing where she made sure the recruits were fed but got so wrapped up in what she was doing that she herself didn’t rest or eat until she was done.

A part of her itches to capture all the life bursting around her on paper but Clarke exercises patience.

She’s heading towards her main muse after all.

She doesn’t know how it’s possible for her smile to become brighter when she spots Lexa in the distance but somehow it does.

She’s in the training field, a wide-open area fenced around the edges, the grass cut low and kept trim in contrast with the ankle-high grass of the rolling hills around them. From where Clarke is standing Lexa is still a small figure in the distance but Clarke can see from here the dark cluster that is the new trainees gathered around her in a semi-circle. In front of them is Lexa, sparring against one of the trainee’s. She seems to be demonstrating the right form, strokes slow, strong and smooth even from a distance. Indra stands off the side, arms folded, apparently content to just watch for now.

A warm swell of pride rises in Clarke’s chest and grows the closer she gets to the field until it bursts and washes over her, warming her entire body.

Lexa looks up at the sound of Clarke’s approach, takes one look at her and the huge smile on her face and is helpless to stop the way her mouth tilts up in response, teeth flashing white as she returns the blonde's smile. It lasts for just a second before her expression switches to a far more dignified commander-esque tilt of her lips but Clarke can still hear the resulting rapid  _thud- thud- thud_  of her ecstatic heart. That’s four full smiles in the space of one morning. She thinks they might be well on their way to a record.

As she nears she experiences the not-so-new-now sensation of two dozen pairs of eyes shifting to look at her because by now they all know the cause of  _that_  smile on their commander’s face.

A lot of those eyes light up when they land on her. A few shy smiles are sprinkled throughout the group, a few grins. Clarke gives a little wave and marvels at how sweet it is to see those smiles widen, those eyes grow brighter.

Lexa doesn’t even need to tell them to greet her anymore. Almost as one, the entire unit rises, hands pressed to their heart in salute, spines rigid in endearingly good imitations of their commander.

“Hail Clarke kom Skaikru, the mighty Wanheda.” They chant as one. Even after all the time that has passed, the name still stings but Clarke is glad of it now. She is glad that she has moved on but not forgotten. Glad that she understands much better the honor and respect behind the name, because, as Lexa had whispered into her ear one night when Clarke had asked why she still allowed her people to call her that – she who commands death inadvertently commands life. Clarke is just as much a bringer of one as the other. what happened at mount weather balanced against who she is as a person, against Clarke’s selfless, caring nature, against her work with the grounders, teaching them everything Abby had taught her and some things that Clarke had figured out all on her own. Death balanced against every life her hands have ever saved and those that she is yet to save. Clarke understands that now, accepts it now, embraces it even and though she still twitches under the assumption that she has the right to be the commander of any of these things – the most essential forces of nature in all their raw glory – she at least accepts the sentiment behind it whole-heartedly. If this is who they need her to be, if this is what gives their people hope, Clarke can be this for them and be it gladly.

So Clarke nods and smiles and at  _her_  command, they settle back down, attention turning back to Lexa.

She warms further at the way they honor her and settles against a nearby boulder. She sets down the pouch of food she’d gleaned from the kitchen, the knotted sack bursting with all kinds of goodies. With a smile she reminds herself to again thank Soncha, the cheerful, curvy, aging cook that had taken more than a shine to Clarke. She was one of the first friends Clarke had made in the tower and never ignored an opportunity to ply Clarke with wonderful tasting treats if she could help it. Just remembering the woman –  the streaks of grey through her rich dark hair, her affectionate kisses on Clarke’s cheeks and even more affectionate hugs - and the homey warmth of the Tower’s kitchen has Clarke smiling as she takes out her sketchpad. After taking a second to arrange herself into as comfortable a position as she can get, she begins to draw.

Occasionally she’ll look up and catch Lexa’s eyes on her as she adjusts the footwork of this trainee or shifts the grip of that one.

It never fails to send a flood of affection through her - the way Lexa’s eyes light up, mouth tugging upward into that subtle smile that’s just for Clarke.

The sun shifts even higher into the sky, turns scorching and insistent and Clarke relocates to a nearby copse of widely spaced trees that marks the beginning of a forest. The ground is elevated here, giving her an even better view of the training field and the shade of the huge oak tree she’s currently resting against is a welcome relief as Clarke mops at the sweat beading on her brow with a clean square of cloth she’s taken to carrying around.

She feels Lexa’s eyes on her and blows her a little kiss. She’s still here. She’s not leaving yet. Lexa’s mouth quirks pleasantly, the briefest flash of white showing in her smile before she shifts her attention back to her trainees.

It’s much cooler under the shade of the trees and Clarke keeps watching and drawing and meeting twinkling forest green eyes alight with a smile until the sun gets tired of its own exuberance and begins to shift back home with a weary sort of pride.

At some point, during their lunch break, Clarke notices Lexa and Indra talking about something off to the side, Lexa leaning in to say something in Indra’s ear. Clarke’s not quite sure what it is, because there’s some urgency in the movement of Lexa’s lips. But then Indra gets this slow smirk on her face and looks up, right at Clarke, such a knowing look in her eyes that Clarke feels heat rushing to her cheeks.

Lexa says a few words more and Indra gives a firm nod and brief salute before marching off.

Lexa let’s her eyes drift to Clarke and there’s something about the wicked little sparkle in her eyes and the slow tilt of her smile that has Clarke blushing even harder. A trainee approaches Lexa, having hurried through his meal so that she can go through a few moves with him and Lexa turns to attend to him but not before giving Clarke a wink that has her grinning despite the red burning in her cheeks.

Well, this was certainly going to be an interesting day.

***

They’re well into the afternoon by the time Lexa dismisses the trainees, each one worn and exhausted and oh so proud to have had the opportunity to spar with the Commander.

Most wave at Clarke as they file past, quick shy gestures that have her smiling and waving back. Others bow slightly and still others give her the formal salute and Clarke smiles some more and acknowledges each of them before they continue on their way. She knows more than a dozen of them by name. While they wouldn’t dare approach her while they’re still embodying their occupation as soldiers, with their Commander watching no less, when she’s out in town more than a few of them pluck up the courage to come and talk to her. Occasionally, Clarke will get mobbed by hugs from the older and younger kids alike. She thinks the business like faces of faux maturity they’re wearing now is nothing less than adorable.

When they’re a safe enough distance away from the two legends, the kids, because that’s what they are really – burst into chatter, conversations seemingly generated out of nothing. Clarke listens to the voices fading, the laughter and teasing and shrieking cries signaling youth and feels something wistful and sharp slide under her ribs like a knife and settle, warm and heavy against her heart. There’d been a time when she’d been like that once – carefree and bright and unburdened. No blood on her hands, no scars on her heart, no ghosts in her eyes – no weight of darkness on her soul.

She’s glad that at least, there’s a generation that gets to have this. To be  _young_.

Sometimes she’s tempted to think her childhood ended the moment she was dropped on the ground but that’s not true. Truthfully, it ended the day her dad was floated – when she lost him right before her eyes and realized that the world was more often than not a cruel, fickle place where good men could be killed for telling inconvenient truths and a few could decide the lives of the many; where sometimes there were no good guys or bad guys – simply choices. Choices that people regretted and choices they didn’t. choices that brought suffering, choices that didn’t, or choices that brought suffering to some but not others. choices that were for the greater good and choices that failed to achieve their purpose regardless of the paths that a person took.

There is always that pang of pain when she thinks of her dad and even after the years that have passed, Clarke has to take a deep breath and close her eyes against the memory of him standing behind those doors, bravely trying to reassure her mother and her when  _he_ was the one being launched into space. The pain is better now though, the ache fading to a dull throb in just a matter of seconds.

Everything is better now, even this.

“Are you well  _ai hodness_?” Lexa settles gracefully beside her, close enough that their thighs are touching, pressed together. Clarke opens her eyes and Lexa is peering at her with concern. A warm hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb stroking gently across her skin and soft green eyes repeat the question even if Lexa doesn’t.

Clarke blinks away the tears she didn’t realize had gathered and kisses the palm gently cupping her face, telling Lexa without having to speak that she’s fine.

Lexa doesn’t move away immediately, taking in the small smile on Clarke’s lips and then searching her eyes until she is satisfied that Clarke is indeed fine. When she is, she leans in and places a lingering kiss on her forehead. Lexa always seems to know when to push Clarke and when not to. It’s one of the things Clarke loves so much about her. Clarke's smile grows truer, wider and Lexa's mouth tilts pleasantly.

"Were you able to draw what you wanted?" she asks, peering earnestly first at Clarke and then at her sketchbook, as if Lexa has x-ray vision and can see straight through the cover to determine whether or not the afternoon has met Clarke's expectations. Clarke takes in the little crinkle on her brow and the wide green eyes that shift worriedly to her when more than a couple of seconds have gone by and Clarke hasn't answered. Clarke tries not to fall even further in love with Lexa because of something as simple as this and fails miserably. Conceding defeat with an inaudible sigh, she shifts forward and plants a kiss on those plump, pouty lips. She can feel Lexa's eyelashes flutter gently as the commander's eyes slip closed. Lexa relaxes into the kiss, melting into Clarke. Even before Clarke pulls away there's a smile sliding onto Lexa's face. 

"Yes, i was." Clarke smiles softly at the sweet grin the Commander is currently sporting, and flips open her sketchbook to show her. "it's not exactly what i'm looking for but i'm sure inspiration will hit me when i least expect it."

Lexa quietly takes in the pictures in Clarke's sketchbook, running her fingers almost reverently over the bottom of the page. Once they had finally achieved peace, a whole lot more art supplies were open to Clarke than just charcoal. A lot of them are still quite expensive or more than a little rare but Lexa is Heda and Clarke is Wanheda; somehow, where the grateful survivors of the thirteen clans are concerned, despite Clarke and Lexa's protests, money is never an issue. Often Clarke paints on wide canvases, stunning Lexa with the depth of her talent. sometimes, like now, she works with a collection of crayons, or felt pens, or ink, varying between staggeringly life-like images to humorous cartoon like figures. She'd drawn one of a grumpy Indra once that had Lexa and her entire family of nightbloods in stitches. Even Indra had to struggle not to smile when she caught a glimpse of it, her mouth twitching treacherously even as she harrumphed and stalked away from Clarke.

Clarke has decided to capture reality today.

Lexa is silent for so long as she flips through the images of rolling fields and training soldiers and images of a very familiar Commander with a jawline to die for that Clarke actually starts to become a little worried.

Before she can give in to her uncertainty and ask what's wrong, Lexa is sighing audibly and leaning forward to claim Clarke's lips in the softest ever kiss. "beautiful," she breathes against her mouth, and Clarke somehow knows she's not talking about just her art.

She smiles and Lexa pulls back to run her thumb affectionately over Clarke's cheek. 

Then the Commander gets up and walks a few feet in front of Clarke before flopping gracelessly to the ground.

Clarke grins at her, the almighty commander, worn out and covered in sweat, sprawled on her back like a starfish, with her face to the sky and her very own sky princess at her side.

It is the most carelessly relaxed she’s seen Lexa outside their bedroom in a while, hands spread open, eyes closed, breaths slow and deep.

Clarke’s fingers itch to sketch her but she doesn’t think even the upgraded art supplies she's carrying could quite capture this - the easy serenity radiating from Lexa, the peace in the smoothness of her expression, the contentment lifting the corners of her mouth ever so slightly – thinks that she would need paints and a canvas and ponders if she can convince Lexa to lie still for her when they get back – on their bed of furs bathed in the light of the soon setting sun...

Beautiful.

The other part of her wants to  _touch_. Run loving fingers over the commander’s still damp brow, play with those baby curls that have escaped out of her braid, trace down Lexa’s neck and the familiar strong curve of her collarbone and down Lexa’s arms - Clarke wants to feel the muscle tense and shift under her touch. She doesn’t care that Lexa is sweaty all over, she wants to lean in close and bury her face in her neck, breathing in that familiar musk of Lexa – sweat and steel and lavender – wants to align their bodies and press in, press closer.

Clarke  _wants_  but Lexa’s eyes are closed, her breathing slow and steady and watching her is like watching a still pond on a quiet day–  _peaceful._ Clarke would never do anything to disturb her. Lexa deserves these moments of peace.

So instead of moving closer, sinking beside Lexa and tangling her fingers in the commander’s loosening braids, tugging until the commander’s warm, sweet mouth is fixed on hers and Clarke can show her with lips and teeth and tongue just how much she has missed her since this morning, Clarke takes a slightly shaky breath, averts her eyes from Lexa’s beautiful form and goes for something a lot safer for her self- control than physical touch. 

“By the way, what did you tell Indra?” she asks. she's genuinely curious and if her voice is a little husky to her own ears it's at least not enough for Lexa to pick up on.

Lexa mouth quirks pleasantly in that smile Clarke loves without Lexa opening her eyes. “I merely asked her to clear my schedule for the rest of the day. To take over any issues that might arise in the city or with the troops and to only call me if the matter was particularly urgent. I asked her to relay the same message to Titus. She may have… inferred a few things from my request.”

Lexa sounds  _amused_  and Clarke takes a second to let Indra’s knowing look flash through her mind. She can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah I’ll bet.”

Lexa’s eyes open only to find hers, to connect through their shared amusement and then they slip closed again.

Clarke let’s a few peaceful seconds slip by before another question begins to niggle at her. She manages to hold it in for about five seconds before giving up.

“Have you eaten?” she whispers, because she doesn’t want to disturb Lexa’s rest or the bubble of quiet they’ve found themselves in but also, sometimes Lexa needs reminding to eat and there’s an entire pouch of food right beside Clarke.

“In the morning, before you came. Bread and ham with watered down wine with the rest of the recruits.” Lexa murmurs, voice quiet in the stillness, lips barely moving.

“Since morning?” Clarke frowns. Lexa is undeniably tough. The hardest of the hard and so on and so forth but surely it wasn’t healthy to have basically eaten only breakfast the entire day and a rather spartan breakfast at that. “Lex.”

Lexa’s eyes drift open at the light chastisement in Clarke’s voice, and she props herself up on her elbows, mouth curling in fondness and amusement. “Clarke.” She teases lightly, clicking her tongue against the ‘k’ in her name in that way Clarke loves.

Clarke huffs, refusing to give into the smile that wants to tug the corners of her mouth. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Lexa says nothing for a minute, as if actually considering the question and considering the woman asking it. Clarke holds her gaze the entire time, eyebrow quirking during Lexa’s silent deliberation.

“I will eat in a minute. There is only one thing I am truly hungry for Clarke.” She murmurs at last and the way Lexa's gaze is running over her now slow, reverent, eyes hooded with desire and appreciation, there’s no denying what that is.

The wave of arousal that sweeps through Clarke is surprising in its intensity, bringing with it a full body flush that starts at her cheeks and sends blood rushing all the way to her extremities. Her fingers are tingling. Her toes are tingling. Other parts of her are tingling and Clarke shifts under Lexa’s heavily appreciative gaze and just barely resists the urge to press her thighs together. Instead she clears her throat and wills something at least moderately sensible to come out in response. She opens her mouth but…Clarke’s got nothing. Lexa has literally rendered her speechless.

After a few more failed attempts at responding, Clarke shuts her mouth completely, her cheeks pinking further and Lexa tips her head back and laughs softly. It makes Clarke weak as only Lexa’s laugh can. And to think she’s usually the one with the bold innuendo’s that make Lexa blush. Lexa has been spending too much time around her and Raven that’s for sure.

Clarke huffs good- naturedly and turns her face away from the still-grinning Commander, picking idly at the blades of grass at her feet. She can feel Lexa’s smile though, dancing tantalizingly along the edges of her periphery.

When Lexa settles back into place and closes her eyes again, Clarke can feel that too. The sense of ease that flows from Lexa is so profound she releases a small sigh as her body can’t help but relax as well. Clarke manages maybe ten minutes of idle field gazing and loose sketching before her attention is drawn irrevocably back to the woman lying just a few feet from her.

Being close to her and disciplining herself not to touch her might be torture, but being this far away is even worse. Clarke can feel the ache of her desire to be closer in her bones. After a moment of deliberation, she abandons the sketchbook completely and shifts as close to the commander as she can without touching, laying on her back beside her. She turns her head up to the sky and allows herself to closer her eyes. She feels the cool forest wind blow gently against her, caressing her face, stroking her hair.

She’s close- so painfully close to Lexa and Clarke wants and Clarke  _aches_  and Clarke waits, tilting her face up to the clear blue sky and shutting her eyes against the burnished orange impression of the sun.

When Lexa’s hand crosses the inch of space between them to grab hold and squeeze, Clarke smiles and squeezes back, breathing easier with the connection.

Lexa plays with her fingers – drawing lazy circles into her hand with her thumb and Clarke waits until the sun shifts a couple more degrees to the west, until the burning impression is gone from behind her eyes, until her eyes are heavy with something a lot like sleep when she drags them open once more. Its that time just before sunset, burnished golden light spilling through the forest canopy and bathing everything in shades of glimmering orange and dark pinks. She knows if she turns her head in Lexa’s direction, past her she’ll see the sun, huge and red in a sky the color of apricots, streaked with rose and lavender, sinking slowly into the horizon as it waves goodbye.

Lexa rolls onto her side to peer down at Clarke. Her eyes are soft and dark and reverent as she combs a hand lightly through Clarke’s tresses, tracing the outline of her bottom lip with a touch so light its barely there, as if Lexa too is scared to disturb. But Clarke is not a pond, she is banked embers, glowing under the Commander’s rekindling touch and Clarke meets Lexa’s eyes in the orange light of late afternoon and let’s the dark softness thrill through her.

“Has it been a minute yet?” she husks.

And Lexa smiles that smile Clarke loves and answers by leaning over to press her lips against Clarke's, sucking her bottom lip gently into her mouth. Clarke’s response is somewhere between a sigh of pleasure and a relieved groan, gratitude turning her molten as she rolls over and entwines her arms around Lexa’s neck, kissing her with all the built-up desire of the last few hours. She doesn’t know how long they stay like this - kisses slow and heady, an intoxicating blend of lips and tongues and teeth - only that it is long enough that when they part, she’s deliciously dizzy with it. Their lips are swollen, cheeks flushed, Lexa’s hair disheveled where Clarke dug her fingers in and clung. Her lips feel bruised with the controlled heat of their kiss, pressing deeper and deeper as if they could simply absorb each other, the imprint of Lexa’s mouth tingling against hers as they pant, warm and wet into each other’s mouths.

“Come on” Lexa rasps, voice rough as she gets up and gently takes Clarke’s hand. The sound zips through Clarke, a pleasant shock that has the muscles low in her abdomen involuntarily clenching.

She doesn’t need to be told twice.

***

They walk a little way before Lexa gives her a grin filled with such mischief Clarke can’t help but feel a little wary. She doesn’t get the chance to ask the question dancing on the tip of her tongue when Lexa tugs them down the little hill they’re standing on at a run.

“Le-e-e-e-x” Clarke’s howl turns into a whoop as they go streaking down the hill.

Clarke doesn’t do running – all the occasions she’s ever had to seriously run have involved tragedies: racing to see her father before he was floated, trying to escape quint, fleeing from the pauna, evading acid fog - the list is endless. So Clarke doesn’t run unless she has to, the adrenaline it dregs up inevitably intertwined with dread, or fear, or pain, or hurt. Clarke has forgotten what it feels like to run just for the sake of running, no ominous strings attached.

She’d forgotten what it feels like to savor the wind in her face, whipping through her hair. The adrenaline pumping through every part of her body in a tingling rush, uncontaminated by anything else. The welcome strain in the muscles of her legs as they carry her forward.

She’d forgotten what it feels like to be  _young_. Lexa of all people has just reminded her.

When Clarke lets out another whoop, Lexa laughs, delighted, and the sound spills out over the valley, sinks into Clarke’s bones, spurring her faster.

Lexa gives her a second of warning in the squeeze of her fingers before letting go of Clarke’s hand.

Another shock of adrenaline pulses through her, thrums when Lexa gives her a grin which she returns.

And Lexa surges ahead and Clarke follows, the sound of their joy echoing throughout the valley.

***

They stop a few miles from Polis when Clarke can see the familiar towering structure of their home in the distance, flame burning bright.

She immediately bends double planting her hands on her thighs and tries to suck in air through her burning lungs. She ran till her body ached – legs, thighs, arms, ribs - but she’s never been so glad to feel this pain on the ground before. She hasn’t felt so free in a long time. The heat of her body warmed by exercise and the coolness of the wind across the sweat on her skin just adds to the relief of it, makes Clarke feel like she’s flying even though she's standing still.

Lexa comes up beside her to rub her back gently and Clarke squints up at her in disbelief. The woman is barely even breathing hard. She’s not even  _sweating_  more.

“Seriously?” Clarke grumbles, except it comes out more as a wheeze and Lexa bites her bottom lip around her grin and gives Clarke a simple shrug. "Stamina." is all she says in response, still rubbing soothing circles against Clarke's back.

Clarke's not gonna lie, that's kind of hot. She isn’t necessarily in a position to  _do_  anything about it right this moment, but she appreciates the Commander’s excellent form all the same.

“I’m sorry if i pushed you to go too fast though,” Lexa murmurs, eyes warm and a little worried as Clarke does her best to put her head between her knees and keep breathing. “I just thought that – ”

Clarke removes her head only long enough to supply, “the quicker we get home the better?”, waggling her eyebrows.

Lexa laughs out loud and shakes her head, “No – well…” She gives Clarke a considering once over, actually bending backwards a little to appreciate Clarke’s rather incredible derriere, all of which does nothing at all to help Clarke catch her breath between the half laugh Clarke huffs out and the heat that flashes through her when Lexa’s eyes darken just so. “Yes, but also sometimes it is good to remember we are free. That we have our whole lives ahead of us. That we  _are_ alive. Sometimes it is good to remember that our life now is about more than just surviving. I wish to show you this when we get back to our room, over and over again as many times as you would like. But i thought i could show you this here too.” Lexa's eyes are dark and soft and loving all at once as she looks at her, her hand reaching up to stroke Clarke's cheek in that familiar gesture. Clarke closes her eyes, desire and affection and gratitude burning brightly in her heart.

Lexa doesn’t elaborate any further but she doesn't have to. Because Lexa has known her for years now, Shared her bed for years now. She knows the nightmares that occasionally come screaming through her subconscious, knows that there are times it is Jake’s name that is whimpered, at times Finn; that there are times the mountain rises before Clarke and the things she has done shudder through her even when she is awake and tucked in Lexa’s arms, soothing phrases in another tongue whispered into her ear. That today Clarke hurt for her dad even though she was able to push the pain away. Lexa knows because she hurts for Anya, for Gustus; she carries her own fears, her own ghosts, memories and tragedies. Clarke just never thought literally outrunning them was ever an option.

“Better?” Lexa whispers and it rises up in Clarke in a burning, heaving rush, forcing her arms up and around Lexa in a hug so hard it actually forces the commander back a step or two, so tight she’s afraid she’ll leave bruises, so soft that they sink into each other, Clarke’s face into Lexa’s neck and Lexa’s head resting against Clarke’s. And if this is all somehow too much it doesn’t show as Lexa wraps her arms around Clarke and tugs her even closer.

***

Lexa piggy-backs Clarke almost the entire remaining distance back to Polis.

Clarke knows that when they get to the outskirts of the city, where people can actually see them Lexa will let her down so that they can walk in with all the appearance of dignity their positions deserve but for now, Clarke snuggles further into Lexa’s back and Lexa’s arms tighten, warm and strong around her thighs.

“I’m not too heavy?” Clarke murmurs, because even though Lexa had offered, dropping down to one knee so that Clarke could climb on ( and Clarke will never get used to heady, rushing warmth that fills her at the knowledge that she is the only one the Commander kneels for, the only one  _Lexa_  will ever kneel for), they both know that she’s more than recovered from their little dash earlier and can walk just fine.

Lexa looks back at her with a quirked eyebrow and then rolls her eyes affectionately and faces forward again.

“Please Clarke. We both know I’ve supported your full weight in much more precarious positions than this"

Heat floods Clarke’s cheeks in a rushing tingle and her laughter echoes in the valley, reflecting off the hills and slopes  as if wood sprites, sensing the amusement and delight in the sound, have decided to make it their plaything, nimbly bouncing it around in the golden glaze of the fading afternoon light.

She leans forward and up to press a kiss just under Lexa’s jaw. “ well when you put it like that” she murmurs, voice husky and warm.

Lexa gives her the grin she loves, green eyes sparkling golden in the light of the setting sun. Clarke can’t resist another kiss before laying her head back on Lexa's back.

Clarke feels the afternoon wind on her face like a kiss and lets her eyes close with a smile. 

 

***

The guards give them amused, knowing looks when they return hand in hand.

Ryder, a middle- aged grizzly bear of a man lets his lips twitch up in the barest approximation of a smile as his eyes meet Clarke’s. Clarke beams at him.

His laughter is a huff of air that is quieter than a whisper.

His eyes flicker to Lexa as he swings the thick oak door open for them both. The commander lifts her head and straightens her spine but  _Lexa’s_  cheeks are sweetly rosy, her hand tightening around Clarke’s, her smile escaping from the corners of pursed lips.

He ducks his head around his grin, bows as he smiles, deference and familiarity blending into one with a seamlessness that somehow only makes both more distinct.

It frees Lexa’s smile as they pass. They are all happy for them.  _This_  is happiness. She doesn’t need the Commander’s mask right now.

There is no weakness here.

***

The atmosphere in the elevator is charged and heavy with promise. Clarke doesn’t know why, they’ve ridden this elevator a hundred times before, done this a hundred times before and yet as she meets Lexa’s eyes, electricity still crackles and jumps in the space between them, shooting up from where their hands are still connected and sparking warmly in her gut.

She wonders if Lexa hears the little gasp she takes. Thinks she does with the way her eyes darken, the way her body half turns towards Clarke.

The elevator comes to a shuddering stop and Clarke feels as if everything inside her is trembling with it – her heart, her lungs, muscle, bones, guts-as if everything in her wants to come apart, all at once.

Her next breath gets stuck somewhere in her lungs as Lexa surges out, tugging Clarke behind her. She crosses the hallway in long, charged strides that has Clarke almost running to keep up and really she would laugh at Lexa’s eagerness, at how she was trying to appear as dignified as possible in the hallway filled with the tower’s guards - to hurry as much as possible without actually looking like she was hurrying, if her breath wasn’t still caught in her lungs.

Lexa pushes through the door into their bedroom and Clarke is barely done securing it behind them before Lexa is crowding into her, her body forcing Clarke back against the door. The breath that got caught somewhere in her chest is released on a low moan that snaps the last of the commander’s control. With a groan, Lexa’s lips crash into hers and then Lexa is everywhere, her teeth nipping at Clarke's bottom lip, lips scorching down her throat, fingers tangling in her hair, streaking down to her back, Lexa's body pushing in, pressing closer until Clarke’s back thuds against the door again and all around her is heat, inside her is heat. She hears the breathy sighs and moans that slip from her burning throat as though they are from another world.

Lexa’s hands drag her coat from her shoulders, tugg her shirt out of her pants and then burning palms splay against the skin of her stomach and Clarke is gasping even as she is surging forward, deepening the kiss, fumbling with the belt at Lexa’s hips until the Commander's sword and other weapons fall to the ground with a clatter.

It’s not enough. They are a whirlwind of limbs, burning kisses and desperate touches, crashing and melding together like waves. Clarke is only vaguely aware of the fact that she is stumbling backward, guided by the insistent push of Lexa’s mouth and red- hot fingers at her hips.

When Lexa pulls away, Clarke has a second to breathe searing air into heaving lungs. Two, to meet the heady darkness of Lexa’s eyes. Then Lexa is pushing her gently but with undeniable firmness and Clarke is falling back onto the furs with a small moan. The bed bounces a little as it supports her weight. Clarke can't look away from Lexa.

She clenches on nothing at the vision Lexa makes. Lexa with her hair tousled, strands escaping from her braid. Lexa with eyes glowing and warm, bathed by the orange light spilling in through the window. The light catches in her hair, crowns Lexa’s head in flaming highlights until she looks like some wild goddess, as untamable as the forests her people derive their name from. Clarke swallows thickly and thinks about asking her to stay like this, just for a second, of immortalizing this moment into eternity.

Then Lexa is spreading Clarke’s legs very deliberately with her knee and Clarke isn’t thinking of much of anything at all when Lexa steps between her thighs.

She wears an easy confidence, draped across her shoulders with all the authority of her red sash and Clarke feels her mouth go dry as Lexa smiles at her.

It’s intoxicating this confidence, slips into Clarke’s blood and turns the heat singing along her veins white-hot. Turns her dizzy with anticipation, loose and liquid even as her fingers clench against the furs.

It feels like all she can hear is the loud pounding of her heart, the rush of blood between her ears.

Lexa’s hands go to the hem of her training shirt and Clarke’s breath hitches.

She slides it up slowly, revealing inch by glorious inch of tanned, toned skin and Clarke’s mouth is literally watering.

Golden -orange light slants across the bare skin of Lexa’s abdomen and Clarke is reminded of what a rare gift days like this are, where their time together seems to stretch as unending as the rose, lavender and orange sky outside, from the moment they woke up to the moment they slept. Gratitude and fondness fill Clarke, even as Lexa smiles knowingly at her and stretches her arms to gracefully tug off her shirt, dropping it at her feet.

Clarke moans at the play of muscles just underneath the surface of Lexa’s skin and Lexa chuckles softly, her gaze soft and warm and playful as it runs over Clarke. Clarke feels that look like a physical caress and she shudders at the promise in them.

“Don’t touch. Watch.” Lexa murmurs, but there’s absolutely no doubt that despite the softness of her voice, her words are a command. Clarke bites her lip as another shiver rolls through her and desperately curls her fingers in the furs beneath her in an attempt to keep herself grounded.

Lexa gives Clarke the most tender smile she has ever seen and Clarke is already in bliss.

Then Lexa's hands go to the button at the top of her jeans and Clarke sucks in a breath she forgets to release. Desire surges in her as Lexa casually pops open the button and Clarke bites down on a groan as she watches Lexa teasingly slide out of her jeans, slow inch by slow inch of golden skin revealed, eyes never leaving Clarke. By the time she’s done, Clarke is panting. She watches through half-lidded eyes, chest heaving, arousal pooling as Lexa makes a show of taking off her remaining clothing; slowly untying her binder, sliding down her underwear.

When the dark, neatly cropped curls between Lexa’s legs come into view, Clarke moans.

Suddenly, it’s almost unbearable how much she wants Lexa, wants to taste her, wants to smell her, wants to touch her, wants to have her shaking and crying out under her. Clarke’s not above begging for the pleasure of bringing Lexa pleasure but all her choked “ _beja Leksa”_ earns her is one of Lexa’s secret smiles, tucked into the corners of her mouth.  


“Soon hodness. _ai want kom look gon yu nau_ ”

 

 _I want to look at you now_.

 

It’s enough to have the remainder of Clarke’s unsteady breaths punched out of her chest. She sinks back onto the bed, shaky arms giving way as Lexa moves closer, hungry eyes flicking over her body. Lexa’s smile deepens, warmth mixing with desire. She hovers over Clarke, taking a moment to run her hands up her jeans clad legs, firm and grounding, squeezing gently.

Clarke forces herself to take a steadying breath.

Lexa rewards her with a soft kiss on the exposed skin of her stomach as she glides her hands up Clarke’s body, taking Clarke’s shirt with them.

Clarke quivers.

Her soft moan has Lexa’s mouth opening wider against her skin with each kiss, following her shirt until Lexa gently works it over Clarke’s head, careful not to get it entangled with her hair. She mouths her way back down Clarke’s body, pausing to smoothly untie Clarke’s binder, mostly ignoring the way Clarke whimpers and arches underneath her, pushing aching pink nipples towards Lexa’s mouth; Lexa nuzzles against Clarke’s chest with affection, kisses around the curves of the soft swells, blows gently over the sensitive buds but doesn’t put her mouth where she knows Clarke needs her the most.

Not yet.

She loves the choked off cry Clarke gives, the way she forgets herself for a second, hands moving to Lexa’s hair to _move_ her mouth to where she needs it, loves the way a quiet, “down Clarke,” has Clarke’s hands back at her sides and fisting the bedsheet, even if the effort of it causes a fine tremor through her body.

Lexa glances up and catches Clarke’s dark eyes, pupils blown wide and glazed over, lips held between her teeth, bitten red and swollen from their earlier kisses. The sight sends a shiver down her spine, shoots heat straight between her legs and Lexa moans softly, lets her kisses grow wetter, more purposeful as she makes her way down to the waistband of Clarke’s jeans. She doesn’t miss the little, searching roll of Clarke’s hips and loves the way her smirk has Clarke’s hips jolting upwards in response. Lexa undoes the button easily, sliding down the zipper before resting her chin on Clarke’s stomach.

“Up” Lexa’s voice is warm and firm and infused with just enough authority to make Clarke shudder even as she obeys, lifting her hips to allow Lexa to slide her jeans down her legs.

“Good girl.” Lexa praises softly and Clarke moans, both at the words, and the knowing twinkle in Lexa’s eyes as she watches her. "you’re such a good girl aren’t you Clarke, just for me.”

“Just for you.” Clarke rasps. She recognizes her own words from the morning and wonders if all this delightful torture is her own teasing coming back to bite her. Lexa smiles playfully at her, like she can read her mind and gives her stomach a reassuring kiss, though there’s a wicked enough edge to her smile that Clarke knows she’s not far wrong.

She huffs out a laugh but before she can call her out on it, Lexa is sliding her underwear gently down her legs and she chokes on her words, swears softly when she’s finally bare, cold air meeting her heated skin. Lexa chuckles, then actually catches sight of what all the teasing has done to Clarke and moans softly, momentarily pressing her forehead against Clarke’s hipbone.

“ _Clarke_ ” she groans and If Clarke weren’t so keyed up, she might have laughed again at the double-edge sword Lexa was so determinately wielding.

After a moment though Lexa stands. Clarke smothers the protesting whine that tries to leave her at the loss of contact but she can’t quite help her whimper as Lexa gracefully straddles her, weight settling easily onto her lap. She's burning where their skin touches and so, so _wet_ and Clarke groans quietly, realizing what all teasing has been doing to Lexa too.

Lexa smiles down at her and leans in close enough to nuzzle her nose against hers, close enough that Clarke can feel her breaths washing, warm and rhythmic against her mouth and then, dizzyingly, into her mouth when Clarke’s lips part of their own accord.

“ _Lex_.” She says and she doesn’t know if it is a whisper or a plea or a groan but maybe it’s all three, because Lexa’s eyes flash appreciatively.

She smirks knowingly at Clarke, brushing slow, tender kisses along Clarke’s cheek, Clarke’s jaw, Clarke’s neck, Clarke’s chest, moving from what were virtually pecks to open-mouthed kisses, nipping, licking and sucking lightly at first, then with the intent to mark, to bruise, purple flowers blooming over Clarke’s skin under Lexa’s mouth.

This time the sound that leaves Clarke as Lexa slips the skin just under her breast into her mouth is definitely a groan.

Lexa laughs, actually laughs before pressing a kiss to the corner of Clarke’s mouth and propping herself up on her elbows to look fondly down at her.

 _Such_  a tease. Clarke rolls her eyes at her with a smile.

“ _Ai hod yu in_.” Lexa whispers, smiling softly down at her.

And despite all the tension coiling in her body, Clarke melts.

“I love you too,” she rasps back. The smile on Lexa’s face grows even brighter. She reaches for where Clarke’s hands are clenched, white-knuckled in the furs and gently untangles them, guiding them to her hips. Clarke squeezes the heated skin, groaning unabashedly in relief, because she can finally  _touch_  and Lexa’s eyes sparkle as she leans in to nuzzle against Clarke again.

 

" _Nau_ , teik ai.” she whispers.

 

“ _Now_ , take me.”

 

With a low groan, Clarke flips Lexa over and enthusiastically crushes their lips together.

 

She has never needed to be told twice.

 

***

Later, they lie, tangled and sweaty in their bed, frantic heartbeats and shallow breaths gradually slowing to a gentler, more even rhythm. The furs have been haphazardly kicked away from their overheated bodies and Lexa lies slumped half on top of Clarke, half off, her face buried in Clarke’s neck. Clarke couldn’t muster the strength to pull Lexa properly on top of her even if she tried. Her entire body is still trembling.

It is sometime in the evening, Clarke’s not sure exactly when, except quite some time has passed considering the candles that some thoughtful handmaiden had lit before they had come rushing into the room are burnt almost halfway through. The flickering orange light dances lazily over both their bodies. Above her, Lexa is painted in flames and shadows, a collage of damp, dark, curls, long since loose, flushed, sweaty skin, glistening like diamonds in the candlelight and swollen lips, pink and parted as she pants quietly into the hollow of Clarke’s neck. Clarke doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything more beautiful. She trails gentle fingertips down the moisture coating Lexa’s spine. It’s about all she has the energy to do. Lexa’s entire body shudders and she presses closer to her.

“God Clarke,” Lexa eventually manages in response, some time later, her voice still rough and slightly slurred from exhaustion or the intensity of her pleasure or both. Clarke can only laugh in response, a tired, exhilarated thing that sets Lexa off and has the Commander chuckling in the space between her shoulder and her neck. It tickles a little in the best way and Clarke does find some strength then, to rearrange their positions slightly until Lexa is pressed even more intimately against her, her body fully on hers and their thighs slotted together. Lexa’s low groan has Clarke’s fingers clenching against the skin of Lexa’s hips, even though the idea of them going again is just ridiculous. Not even Lexa has that much stamina.

“I have no idea what you do to me.” Lexa buries her face in Clarke’s chest and whines, voice muffled by Clarke’s considerable bosom.

Clarke laughs again, both at the statement and at the ridiculously cute picture the Commander of the 13 Clans makes as she nuzzles into her  _houmon's_  chest.

“What  _I_  do to _you_?” she repeats in incredulous disbelief, “and I suppose that strip tease was your version of being an innocent victim.”

Lexa pauses for a moment in her appreciation of the softness of Clarke’s chest and then lifts herself up slightly so that she can look down at Clarke.

She smirks, practically oozing a smugness that somehow, only manages to add to her charm. “Fair enough.”

Clarke scoffs playfully and rolls her eyes. A blush heats her cheeks at the memory of Lexa looking warmly down at her while she slowly inched off her underwear and everything that had led to.

Clarke’s face suddenly feels like it’s on fire and Lexa takes one fond look at her and begins laughing, resting her head back against Clarke’s chest, just under her chin as her body shakes with amusement.

A small pinch to Lexa’s bottom has her yelping and then laughing even harder until Clarke can’t help but join in too.

It's only later, after a whole round of teasing about how, for all her boldness, Clarke and her people are a whole lot shyer about the giving and receiving of pleasure than Lexa’s and several rounds of quiet laughter interspersed with soft kisses that turn Clarke into sleepy- eyed mush -

and later still, after the temperature in the room has dropped and Lexa has drawn the covers up around both of them and snuggled into Clarke, her eyes drooping too, does Lexa whisper her name.

”Clarke?”

“hmm?” Clarke mumbles, already half asleep.

Lexa pauses only to press a kiss to Clarke’s heart and then waits as Clarke turns slightly on her side and she’s met with the brilliant blue of those eyes she loves so much.

She strokes her thumb over Clarke’s smooth cheek, unable to hold back the surge of love, and fondness, and affection that swells in her chest.

“I love it when you watch me get dressed too…and undressed as it turns out.”

Clarke chuckles sleepily and let’s her eyes close again as the commander moves to nuzzle gently against her. She sighs happily at the uninhibited affection and let’s her body curl closer into Lexa’s.

“Goodnight Commander.”

Lexa presses a kiss into Clarke’s hair before resting back on the same pillow and tightening her hold on Clarke who has shifted all the way into Lexa’s embrace.

“Goodnight my love.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. 
> 
> Lol, I hope you enjoyed this fic. 
> 
> Comments are always welcome :)


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